■jhr\ b Tab: 





Class __L_si_±^i_^ 



Book 



a 



■^^ 



I300 



^^ 



POEMS BY )OHN B. TNHH 



First edition (five hundred copies) December, 1894 
Second edition (five hundred copies) January, 1895 
Third editi«>n (five hundred copies) April, 1895 
Fourth edition (five hundred opies) November, iSy 
Fifth edition (five hundred copies) July, 1896 
Sixth cilition (five hunilml copies) January, 189" 
Seventh edition (five hvindred c<)pies) October, 1897 
Fii^hth edition (five hundred copies) November, 1898 
Ninth edition (five hundred ctipies) Deceml>er, 1900 
Printeii hv John WiUon & Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



Poems by 
John B Tabb 




Boston 

Small MoynoTd 6r Company 

London John Lone 

MDCCCC 



ENTERED ACCORDING TO THE ACT 
OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1 894, 
BY COPELAND AND DAY, IN THE 
OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CON- 
GRESS AT WASHINGTON. 



\Q0O 



Army and Navy a»* 
March 3,1-93'^ 



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CONTKNTtw 

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wttrwABO 4 

TO A rHorooiAfM $ 

MT ITAl # 

CO»TI*T 7 

AO»l« t 

mi wnrrt itMAWisi f 

T«l CLOVO 10 

HiAVTOtit it 

TWr - Ti* l| 

T» <r 14 

CL«ji> I I ■ I .' l4 

mi LOSlir MOVSTAI* I? 

tCMOII It 

rvoToctArHiP so 

TWt Ttno Mooa tl 

t> tl 

IS Ml laA^ul OftOTt tl 

l»TIMATIOSt t4 

Vr^ tf 

U>- t4 

W*,r*.,.. t7 

mi rcAC tl 

r«t CArrivtt tf 



MY PHOTOGRAPH »AC« 30 

BROTHERHOOD 3» 

EVICTED 3* 

GRIEF-SONG SS 

RECOGNITION S4 

AN INFLUENCE $5 

HELPMATES 36 

TO MY SHADOW 37 

THE LAKE 38 

THE DAY-SPRING 39 

THE CHORD 40 

COMPENSATION 4I 

VISIBLE SOU^•D 4s 

TO THE SUMMER WIND 43 

NARCISSUS 44 

CHILDHOOD 45 

TO AN OLD WASSAIL CUP 46 

FOUNTAIN HEAD 47 

THE REAPER 48 

THE BUTTERFLY 49 

THE STRANGER 5© 

JOY 51 

REGRET 5* 

SLEEP 53 

YORICK's SKULL 54 

KEATS SAPPHO 55 

THE BROOK 56 



I? 

Til. - ^.«o«»ito 1^ 

T»t LAtK iO 

T«i iLviaito 4i 

TO A woooao»i« 4a 

•UMOli «| 

TO A ftOM 44 

T«i tkATia.LILT 4| 

T>' or mi AOM 44 

!»• trtAO 47 

T- LIT 41 

o. 4f 

rt 'i«t ^ 

T > iO« 7 1 

f« 7i 

At .0 ^, 



At '»0 -4 

l» UKfl 71 

MClMMt j4 

AT TMt vtAft'ft tun a« 

T' 7t 

TKi i .iMCM ^ 

otrr or •ocsm to 

lutTLrroi ti 

lAffTta tt 

tAtTta iiiitS t| 



resurrection vaob 84 

awakening 85 

earth's tribute 86 

the recompense 87 

RABBONl 88 

TO THE CHRIST 89 

THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTIOW 90 

THE ANNUNCIATION 9I 

THE INCARNATION 9I 

THE ASSUMPTION 9J 

MAGDALEN 94 

ABSOLVED 95 

THE PRECURSOR 96 

SON OF MARY 97 

CHRIST TO THE VICTIM-TREE 98 

ANGELS OF PAIN 99 

A LENTEN THOUGHT lOO 

IS THY SERVANT A DOG lOI 

HOLY GROUND loa 

THE PLAYMATES IO3 

TO THE BABE NIVA IO4 

A PHONOGRAPH IO5 

A CRADLE SONG I06 

CONFIDED 107 

THE TAX-GATHERER I08 

BABY 109 

baby's DIMPLES 1|0 



Mmca Of •init 9mm iii 

rmt Bliar llAt BAM lit 

MItTOa III 

TO MUAtV 114 

•AFTWO 11} 

TO MtHICT LA«ICft ||4 
on THi r iricOMiaO TOUmt Of ttOOIY 



AAi«mi vrwur »av 




SLEEP 


TAcm I 3 8 


THE PYRAMIDS 


ns 


FORMATION 


140 


THE PROMONTORY 


141 


STARS 


142 


WHISPER 


143 


THE SUN 


144 


THE SUNBEAM 


»45 


ALTER EGO 


146 


REFLECTION 


»47 


ESTRANGEMENT 


148 


BEETHOVEN ANGELO 


149 


THE SHADOW 


150 


SONNETS. 




THE INDIAN OF SAN SALVADOR 


153 


KEATS 


M4 


SILENCE 


"55 


UNUTTERED 


156 


SOLITUDE 


>57 


LOVE'S RETROSPECT 


158 


A WINTER TWILIGHT 


«59 


GLIMPSES 


160 


THE AGONY 


161 


THE DEAD TREE 


i6s 


HOMELESS 


163 


THE PETREL 


■ 64 



AT A»C»0« »••• i^l 

rut muvstaM I^T 

miMootio •** 

gootait •** 

TMt niATaAiT IT* 



I HE RINli 

TOM Pl»'« rt AtftWr. aad bdMOd* 



oTfoU. 

oar Bvm, bolotod* B« 
> if ■■ ! Willi low't fair booo^wyi 
PIftct « fuftbct, aad fa 
MsMOi bol • blltfif t 



LIMITATION. 

BREATHE above me or below j 
Never c.inst thou farther go 
Than the spirit's octave-span, 
Harmonizing God and Man. 

Thus within the iris-bound. 
Light a prisoner is found j 
Thus within my soul I see 
Life in Time's captivity. 



KKKROS 

I • f U«i crralcj »n ! •*.«• »•■'•.. •»'.!, 
I ' f aoUrM, friiU^f. gva*>ca . f ».. 



9MMii*a te iiM«, 



Anwi 



iHe« aHHi Be 



WESTWARD. 

AND dost thou lead him hence with thee, 
O setting sun, 
And leave the shadows all to me 

When he is gone ? 
Ah, if my grief his guerdon be. 

My dark his light, 
I count each loss felicity. 
And bless the night. 



TO A PHOT(X}RAPII 



Tlui hxm> Ml m^ *Mf« Wglhl 



w; iIm» to 4m ^ 
A iMMOfy oTIiflM 



MY STAR. 

SINCE that the dewdrop holds the star 
The long night through, 
Perchance the satellite afar 
Reflects the dew. 

And while thine image in my heart 

Doth steadfast shine; 
There, haply, in thy heaven apart 

Thou keepest mine. 



jNTrsr 



A I my,-- . , , -^ -Ua** llto« 






ROBIN. 

COME to me, Robin' The daylight is dying! 
Come to me now! 
Come, ere the cyprcss-trce over me sighing, 
Dank with the shadow-tide, circle my browj 
Come, ere oblivion speed to me, flying 
Swifter than thou ! 

Come to me, Robin! The far echoes waken 

Cold to my cry! 
Oh! with the swallow-wing, love overtaken, 
Hence to the Echo-land, homeward, to fly! 
Thou art my life, Robin. Oh! love-forsaken, 

How can I die ? 



THE WMlTr jRSSA%ltNR 
t KNEW tlM Ity ahan «m. 
1 WWrv ilM WWII ftU iW «%!■ 



or •ymMilMtic UgK 

AamI -*-— *-— ^^^^m milk 



EMiiNadril 
A«l«tlM>y 



Ami 

llrr ic^vllt wlllHHf lltfOIld nt 
I trtiini, (Ufklinit, till Ik* 6km% 



ToovipoariHfi 



THE CLOUD. 

FAR on the brink of day 
Thou standcst as the herald of the dawn, 
Where fades the night's last flickering spark away 
Ere the first dcvvdrop 's gone. 

Above the eternal snows 
By winter scattered on the mountain height 
To shroud the centuries, thy visage glows 

With a prophetic light. 

Calm is thine awful brow; 
As when thy presence shrined Divinity 
Between the flaming Cherubim, so now 

Its shadow clings to thee. 

Yet as an Angel mild 
Thou, in the torrid noon, with sheltering wing 
Dost o'er the earth, as to a weary child, 

A balm celestial bring. 

And when the evening dies. 

Still to thy fringed vesture cleaves the light 

The last sad glimmer of her tearful eyes 

On the dark verge of night. 

So, soon thy glories wane! 
Thou too must mourn the rose of morning shed: 
Cold creeps the fatal shadow o'er thy train, 

And settles on thy head. 

10 



YawmImi^ Hal tMMMd iu r»viilta4 

Aaa iImm «i l&int^M bttfapi 

I>ml M lilf««lf nf hrtuly ft tt B g l W pOIM»| 

TWfdl0#MMiyi«M»t" 



PHANTOMS. 

ARE yc tlie ghosts of fallen leaves, 
O Hakes of snow, 
For which, through naked trees, the winds 
A-mourning go ? 

Or are ye angels, bearing home 

The host unseen 
Of truant spirits, to be clad 

Again in green ? 



THF VOYAGERS 



t imiMMT o'tr iIm mmim% 



Aa4 aow villi kMMtn bn«« nia bHglM. 
FioM Ufc ID l>«iK ffnm D9fm !%!«, 



THE SWALLOW. 

SKIM o'er the tide, 
And from thy pinions fling 
The sparkling water-drops, 

Sweet child of spring! 
Bathe in the dying sunshine warm and bright, 
Till ebbs the last receding wave of light. 

Swift glides the hour, 

But what its flight to thee ? 
Thine own is fleeter far; 
E'en now to me 
Thou seem' St upon futurity anon 
To beckon thence the tardy present on. 

The eye in vain 

Pursues, with subtle glance, 
Thy dim, delirious course 
Through heaven's expanse: 
Vanished thy form upon the wings of thought. 
Ere yet its place the lagging vision caught. 

Again thou'rt here, 

A slanting arrow sent 
From yon fair-tinted bow, 
In promise bent; 
As when, erewhile, the gentle bird of love 
Poised her white wing the new-bom land above. 



A 

Srsfrv ta»i|«hl« t« fnrm, 

Attw liM uirabbiaft ci iliy Immi coMtoL 

Attn ciojfM Ol loss ofviURl^ 
Ijkt MM Umw ■ ■ Ic i MW tJ^ 

TW Mibvr ^ciiit 
Umi «oa» all Mtvft to iMf 



CLOISTERED. 

Wn HIN the compass of mine eyts 
Behold, a lordly city lies — 
A world to me unknown, 
Save that along its crowded ways 
Moves one whose heart in other days 
Was mated to mine own. 

I ask no more; enough for me 
One heaven above us both to see, 

One calm horizon-line 
Around us, like a mystic ring 
That Love has set, encompassing 

That kindred life and mine. 



i6 



THt lOHfiy Mots TAIN 

ONR UfU. tK»t rtft 

I VM, ikrifufh aii ny WoAm^ faf Mid 
!• <**• !•> Kcar 




•7 



ECHOES. 

WHERE of old, responsive 
As the wind and foam, 
Rose the joyous echoes. 
Desolate I roam, 
Nor find one lingering sound to hail the wanderer home 

Silence, long unbroken, 
Break thy rigid spell' 
Free the fairy captives 
Of the mountain dell, 
If yet in veiling mist the mimic minions dwell. 

Children of the distance, 

Shall I call in vain ? 
From your slumbers waking. 

Speak to me again 
As erst in childhood woke your soft i^olian strain! 

Hark! the wavy chorus. 

Faint and far away. 
Like a dream returning 

In the light of day, — 
Too fond to flee; alas! too timorous to slay ! 

Hints of heavenly voices. 
Tone for silvery tone. 
Move in rarer measures 



iS 



PHOTOGRAPHED. 

FOR years, an ever-shifting shade 
The sunshine of thy visage madcj 
Then, spider-like, the captive caught 
In meshes of immortal thought. 

E'en so, with half-averted eye, 
Day after day I passed thee by, 
Till suddenly, a subtler art 
Enshrined thee in my heart of heart. 



: lir. IIALF.RINC; MOON 

My V"^< ht •• e>Hi€ I . a ht CBllHtt 
riM pk«l4f «•< lib hkk lo Im. 

• ft llMMltOMTllMMa, 

Mf camm •» HMMv IfMB iW ^ covacnf i 
B«i at •%!«« ttlMfv iW Mw MMMi lotfd lo 
HaifitlM Inir oT • riiv for M. 



ENSHRINED 

COME quickly In and close the door, 
For none hatli entered here before, 
The secret chamber i>et apart 
Within the cloister of the heart. 

Tread softly! 'Tis the Holy Place 
Where memory meets face to face 
A sacred sorrow, felt of yore, 
But sleeping now forevermore. 

It cannot die; for nought of pain, 
Its rieeting vesture, doth remain: 
Behold upon the shrouded eye 
The seal of immortality ! 

Love would not wake it, nor efface 
Of anguish one abiding trace. 
Since e'en the calm of heaven were less, 
Untouched of human tenderness. 



IS MV ORANt.r OROVR 

OKHs ,i At ^ : . ..if. hmmU^ lo %!« 



.ftalc.i f-<' 



n«« Mmm iIm lilt iyrfm 

.1. 

-4. 



INTIMATIONS 

IKNKW the flowers had dreamed of you, 
And hailed the morning with regret; 
For all their faces with the dew 
Of vanished joy were wet 

I knew the winds had passed your way, 
Though not a sound the truth betrayed; 

About their pinions all the day 
A summer fragrance st3)ed. 

And so, awaking or asleep, 

A memory of lost delight 
By day the sightless breezes keep, 

And silent flowers by night. 



I VoLlTTfON 

t I . 



()V 



i«»4, void a«hn^ 



LOVES HVBLA. 

MY thoughts fly to thee, as the bees 
To find their favorite flower} 
Then home, with honeyed memories 
Of many a fragrant hour: 

For with thee is the place apart 
Where sunshine ever dwells, 

The Hybla, whence my hoarding heart 
Would fill its wintry cells. 



96 



W A V<F AttrDv 









THE PKAK. 

AS on some solitary height 
Abides, in summer's fierce despite, 
Snow-blossom that no sun can blight, 

No frost can kill; 
So, in my soul, — all else below 
To change succumbing, — stands aglow 
One wreath of immemorial snow, 
Unscattcred still. 



ur rArrivr*; 



^•rtinj urain 
WiMfvM whm La9t xU^ rnuki «ty 
T\«Y WftfiM^ tad Utt«^<^ tiki K« Jav 



/I 

ft 



MY PHOTOGRAPH. 

MY sister Sunshine smiled on me, 
And of my visage wrought a shade. 
•' Behold," she cried, ** the mystery 
Ot which thou art afraid! 

•« For Death is but a tenderness, 
A shadow, that unclouded Love 

Hath fashioned in its own excess 
Of radiance from above." 



IIROTHrRII€X>D 

KNRW aoi Ike S««. •«««i V»;«i, 
I H« «luk Ik |irAa««S iIm uuhm. 

Of tpva a I f Iw d nr of m$tfnM 
AmMid IMM to briuild tl»c« rm » 

Saw Mt lb* Scar, twcci V».>kt, 

Wk»f liMM « dmfi oi dc« 
Ui <aU ki. M^t lion iW ftky 

Imo thy <i««^ Um P 
Nof w&ftrd Kc tfiiiiloi umA Aim 
Wkc« riraJ D*«» MippluMcd Iwn > 

iImw, rmrtt VioWt, 
< ««ilklMd StSf , 



\N c cuJi AXkl aU Uuac iau^ ktcp f 



EVICTED. 

TIME shut the door, and turned the key; 
And here in darkness (woe i%me!) 
I wait and call in vain: 
He will not come again! 
I had but stepped beyond the light, 
And on the threshold of the night 
Turned back — alas, to find 
Life's portal closed behind! 

Breathless, I beat the ponderous door: 
No answer! Silence evermore. 

Remembering what has been, 

Sits desolate within. 
The Present dead. Futurity, 
Its still-born babe, wakes not for mc: 

I am alone at last 

With the immortal Past. 



3a 



m^ liMt ^*tiMf Willi iIm a%Ih 



4 ■ itck «po« 

r«lli«f wlkinKc ^ «..». 

OM ir^ti^ Mw low* I — 

mta fiiiii^dowl 



RECOGNITION. 

AT twilight, on the open sea, 
\Vc passed, with breath of melody — 
A song, to each familiar, sung 
In accents of an alien tongue. 

We could not see each other's face. 
Nor through the growing darkness trace 
Our destinies J but brimming eyes 
Betrayed unworded sympathies. 



All MfLVtscr 

I site iWt,— lM«rrti*% «n<: mi<4 (Kt 

|t« wmhImm • tttlMrr* If t)f i^r-Mt 
TVv lowltcf IhtHi f> «KvU. 

1^ 

A 
A 

I 



HELPMATES. 

SAYS the L:ind, "O sister Sea, 
Had'st thou not borne the voyagers to me, 
Vain were their visions grand, 
And I, e'en now, perchance, a stranger-land: 
So, thine the glory be! " 

Says the Sea, *• Nay, brother Land; 
Had'st thou not outward stretched the saving hand, 
My bosom now had kept 
The secret where the souls heroic slept j 
'Tis in thy strength they stand!" 



36 



1 



\fY SHADOW 



N f mil ibo« ' 



THE LAKE. 

I AM a lonely woodland lake: 
The trees that round me grow, 
The glimpse of heaven above me, make 
The sum of all I know. 

The mirror of their dreams to be 

Alike in shade and shine, 
To clasp in Love's captivity, 

And keep them one — ii mine. 



38 



I ME DA^'srRtsc; 

A»(J fr^-*^ '' < '< 1 tiovMl wide 



THE CHORD. 

IN this narrow cloister bound 
Dwells a Sisterhood of Sound, 
Far from alien voices rude 
As in secret solitude 
Unisons, that yearned apart, 
Here, in harmony of heart, 
Blend divided sympathies, 
And in choral strength arise. 
Like the cloven tongues of fire, 
One in heavenly desire. 



40 



HOW , 

How MMsy • hmn aiwt fmm «m ky 
Fot OM iWl <!«««• to tMl 



inu ma«»« « UVCl 



w mtfrr • tMpfMHM wivt of 
u^mM ion. 
' actcnact ik 
A* thm Ml ay «o«ll 



41 



VISIBLE SOUND. 

AYE, have we not felt it and known, 
Ere Science proclaimed it her own, 
That form is but visible tone ? 

Behold, where in silence was drowned 

The hbt fleeting echo of sound, 

The rainbow — its blossom — is found; 

While anon, with a verdurous sweep 

From the mountain-side, wooded and steep. 

Swells the chorus of deep unto deep, 

That the trumpet flowers, flame-flashing, blow 
Till the lilies enkindled below 
Swoon pale into passion, like snow! 

Yea, Love, of sweet Nature the Lord, 
Hath fashioned each manifold chord 
To utter His visible Word, 

Whose work, wheresoever begun. 
Like the rays floating back to the Sun, 
In the soul of all beauty is one. 



TO TtIR fUMMr.R WIND 

AK I tlMw iIm .rtfMNM wumI ikM blew 
\VH*n t -»: ♦ • » »-.y » 
T\w m. « I katw. 



ll»« lolfcwul lo • 

UplMI Um tlMV liandMM lici 

Arv all like voim loM lo m« 

iiiU wuMkriM iW worid fnUi iam r 



NARCISSUS. 

THE god enamoured never knew 
The shadow that beguiled his view. 
Nor deemed it less divinely true 
Than Life and Love. 

And so the poet, while he wrought 
His image in the tide of thought, 
Deemed it a glimpse in darkness caught 
Of light above. 



( HILOHOOD 






4} 



TO AN OLD WASSAIL-CUP. 

WHERE Youth and Laughter lingered long 
To quaff delight, with wanton song 
And warm caress, 
Now Time and Silence strive amain 
With lips unsatisfied, to drain 
Lite's emptiness! 



46 



roUHTAIN-HRAIM. 

A liter fr«n a^ott* "^ Kv ^^ 
Ih« rxtm-4tvfm at lK« WmIi 

Alike bvm MMV1 mnI Uuijr trBv«« uim 

Attii back lo Mfiii mk tmn m 
AUUMWiiv 



THE REAPER. 
n[^ELL me whither, maiden Jxmc, 
X Down the dusky slope of noon 
With thy sickle of a moon, 
Goest thou to reap. 

«* Fields of Fancy by the stream 
Of night in silvery silence gleam, 
To heap with many a harvest-dream 
The granary of Sleep." 



Tfir nrrrrKri V 

I'M, ft<M«iAK lUnmwi, 
J f 

7 



THE STRANGER. 

HE EN TE RED; but the mask he wore 
Concealed his face from me. 
Still, something I had seen before 
He brought to memory. 

«< Who art thou ? What thy rank, thy name ? 

I questioned, with surprise; 
"T/iT)/^//'," the laughing answer came, 

** As seen of others^ eyes."^ 



;oY. 

New-born. ymUmgu^mMy^ 

Or whilinw gliii 
OMkinoTMiof ilMk, 

UiwitiiUwawMit 



REGRET. 

WHAT pleading passion of the dark 
Hath left the Morning pale ? 
She listens! «« 'T is, alas, the Lark, 

And not the Nightingale! 
O for the gloom-encircled sphere, 

Whose solitary bird 
Outpours for Love's awakening ear 
What noon hath never heard! " 



52 



tLEEF. 



BUHD aft llMl M tlljr MMMlMf NlfK 




SJ 



YORICK'S SKULL. 

POOR jester! still upon the stage, 
Chap-fallen flung, 
Where merry clowns from age to age 

Thy dirge have sung; 
Yet more than Eloquence may reach, 

Thought-heights among: 
'T is thine, humanity to teach. 
Sans brains or tongue. 



KRATB.tAFfHO. 






- M 



•iMMt 



THE BROOK. 

IT is the mountain to the sea 
That makes a messenger of mc: 
And, lest I loiter on the way 
And lose what I am sent to say, 
He sets his reverie to song 
And bids me sing it all day long. 
Farewell! for here the stream is slow. 
And I have many a mile to go. 



icfif nrr 

\ ght rvKttri iKc cry. 

■■■> I .< tkAlkm %kj 

* KaMwt iMIb o««r «• 



OM 






At 



THE MOCKING-BIRD. 

O HEART that cannot sleep for song' 
Behold, I wake with thee, 
And drink, as from a fountain strong, 

Thy midnight melody, 
That, poured upon the thirsting silence, seems 
Fresh from the shade of dreams 

My spirit, like the sapless bough 

Of some long-wintered tree, 
Feels suddenly the life that now 

Sets all thy passion free, 
And flushed as in the wakening strength of wine, 

Leaps heavenward with thine. 



riir. HUMMINO-BtRD. 

\ FIAsii rbtmlMi IJclNaii^ 
. \A miti «4 ruahom 4ft% 
I W IWMllMd MbMM bfMMllk^ 

ftom i u w w to iofiw Im fail 
'"*"•'-— "--"-Ttrnt"' Mill, 

\VlM bTimIi KMdMdXr boMB 
Aa4 



M 



THE LARK. 

HE rose, and singing passed from sight: 
A shadow kindling with the sun. 
His joy ecstatic flamed, till light 
And heavenly song were one. 



tHF. BLUEBIRD 

rIS tyat fbc mflWfl loag to ilaf 
Of ww l cmix to ilw wifcwihf tftteg. 
Who rmmd iIm«, m ■ Mimni, w m ii 



TO A WOOD-ROBIN 

LO, where the blooming woodland wakes 
From wintry slumbers long, 
Thy heart, a bud of silence, breaks 
To ecstasy of song. 



ILOiSOM. 



I;K>R thim ilM ft«ll« farikk Ukc M«d, 
Pot ihM tiM miMM irw I 



TW Uvt to aMA, Um amii ioOo4< 
Faq(«t% Utiijly. 



TO A ROSE. 

THOU hast not toiled, swcrt Rose, 
Yet nccdest rcstj 
Softly thy petals close 

Uj)on thy breast. 
Like folded hands, of labor long oppressed. 

Naught knowest thou of sin, 

Yet tears are thine; 
Baptismal drops within 

Thy chalice shine. 
At morning's birth, at evening's calm decline. 

Alasf one day hath told 

The tale to thee! 
Thy tender leaves enfold 

Life's mystery: 
Its shadow falls alike on thee and me! 



: Mr WATKR-LILY 
:CK, O fr»4fr 



T N'CK, O fngnnt i.-fm .f ..|-h«, 




THE PLAINT OF THE ROSE. 

SAID the budding Rose, " All night 
H;ive I dreamed of the joyous light: 
How long doth my lord delay! 
Come, Dawn, and kiss from mine eyes away 
The dewdrops cold and the shadows gray, 
That hide thee from my sight!" 

Said the full-blown Rose, *♦ O Light! 
(So fair to the dreamer's sight!) 

How long doth the dew delay! 
Come back, sweet sister shadows gray, 
And lead me home from the world away, 

ro the calm of the cloister Night!" 



66 



TMR vioi.rr sprAicj. 

THINK nnt vt« 

Lort** itHtM t<4pti 
Hoc Ir m d lj dtr^m 

Hi 



ftnm \» t %u Mgl 
OffmuKkmim 



TO THE VIOLET. 

SWEET violet, who knows 
From whence thy fragrance flows 
Or whither hence it goes ? 

A pious pilgrim here 
To Winter's sepulchre 
Thou comest year by year 

Alert with balmier store 
Than Magdalen of yore 
To Love's anointing bore. 

Methinks that thou hast been 

So oft the go-between 

'Twixt sight and things unseen 

That with thy wafted breath 

Alternate echocth 

Each bank of sundering Death. 



OOLDRH.ROU 

AS UtmI, m d»r^ n4 nU, 

A Mill uimmtkud iraai 

Hflf p4fnM ttcps to fVMc, 
TW Am— IB )o«fMp o«, •(» §mn 
Urn W}mm\ UifiMiM cy«. 



STAR-JESSAMINE. 

DISCERNING Star from Sister Sur, 
We give to each its name; 
But ye, O countless Blossoms, are 

In fragrance and in flame 
So like, that He from whom ye came 
Alone discerneth each by name. 



70 



I M > 

\ 1 1 ._• m fTtrm^ t«lf«r gVlT| 



FERN SONG. 

DANCE to the beat of the rain, little Fern, 
And spread out your palms again, 

And say, «• Tho' tlie sun 

Hath my vesture spun. 
He had labored, alas, in vain. 

But for the shade 

That the Cloud hath made, 
And the gift of the Dew and the Rain.*' 

Then laugh and upturn 

All your fronds, little Fern, 
And rejoice in the beat of the rain! 



7a 



AUTUMN GOLD 

DEATH in ih€ h.*u**, and Ik* pMm-toA 
A-l»io*in) lA tK« tu^! 
O hiamum, K<m. lu^ iIm SMm Hod, 
WW* ihc httt Aic u«il Mid tW mIm cold. 
Doth • ma ikM iIm aioMfi kmom m 
S«<litt«ddlorgayf 



AUTUMN SONG. 

MY life is but a leaf upon the tree — 
A growth upon the stem that feedeth all. 
A touch of frost — and suddenly I fall, 
To follow where my sister-blossoms be. 

The selfsame sun, the shadow, and the rain, 
That brought the budding verdure to the bough, 
Shall strip the fading foliage as now, 
And leave the limb in nakedness again. 

My life is but a leaf upon the tree; 
The winds of birth and death upon it blow; 
But whence it came and whither it shall go, 
Is mystery of mysteries to me. 



74 



Ofl 

Am! hm% k Amwmm*t 4mkf rri^ 

AbiftlKini 

ToinliilM 

Wkk 4f«M of May. 






DECEMBER. 

DULL sky above, dead leaves belowj 
And Hungary winds that whining go. 
Like faithful hounds upon the track 
Of one beloved that comes not back. 



76 



AT THF YCArS FNO. 

NIfMflM of dijr, tad miattr m 
, iolw«ilMtlMl»lm..rMiT 

TIms «Hiik oar 4iir« tW drvMw rracw 
Of toNM linfum a tWc^, «r«, 
TW df tn of fvtutny. 



THE CHRISTMAS BABE. 

SO small that lesser lowliness 
Must bow to worship or caressj 
So great that heaven itself to know 
Love's majesty must look below. 



THE LIGHT OF BrTHLRHEM 

X A Aack uaaumbcfvvi Umi 
TW oid jirnUmn Aar« a^ci^w. 
KiVf «r»tch wiiKio ih« titter 

As icy viiUflM-M h<il4* 

TIm pul*r« tt4 iKc niKhli 
A 3««|i«r mvarry init»id« 

TW inittacnA|[ ll(Mi» of liflM. 

Till* K «nUi rrrvrvAct pdt 

Tim ait idi diedf . 
TW lonlliM« «ftlm»i 

TWLiglMof BitiildiHH 



OUT OF BOUNDS. 

A LITTLE Boy of heavenly birth, 
But far from home to-day, 
Comes down to find His ball, the Earth, 

That Sin has cast away. 
O comrades, let us one and all 
Join in to get Him bade His balil 



So 



MirrLr.ToF. 

" yO Ikt CWdll IHMtl of % Mkffd InM, 

1 ■■■■■lii widi ic« ana «wm. 
A 

AWftkofaiMUMM. 

TW ill n illi nl «an frvm ilMir ittcy ciood 

0«l 0» IIm sMM to M«| 



TW HcfDd aoftli.wiiia bIwNrvd liMd 
To nmi il Ctdmi iW tnc 

B«i iIm oU ymt look k lor ■ i%B, 
AoaUMMdiimliklMwi. 

•• Widi pf pfi l n c y of vmf dmoa, 
L4f ooor my tool JcpMt.** 



EASTER. 

LIKE a meteor, large and bright. 
Fell a golden seed of light 
On the field of Christmas night 

When the Babe was born; 
Then 'twas sepulchred in gloora 
Till above His holy tomb 
Flashed its everlasting bloom — 
Flower of Easter morn. 



8a 



eAITKR ULIU. 

r HOUGH kMM Ml mimrf tltvp yr lav. 
11m famxTk of fUfkATM couUJ IW4 Uiy 



Wik iMipt Ml lull 1 1 y« tfii^ 
tt9 4mni dM iinl ■■iiiinii 9jm 

or cmm, iw kJi«. 



RESURRFXTION. 

ALL that springeth from the sod 
Tendeth upwards unto God} 
All that Cometh from the skies 
Urging it anon to rise. 

Winter's life-delaying breath 
Leaveneth the lump of death, 
Till the frailest fettered bloom 
Moves the earth, and bursts the tomb. 

Welcome, then. Time's threshing-pain 
And the furrows where each grain. 
Like a Samson, blossom-shorn. 
Waits the resurrection mom. 



AWAKrNINi; 

Do ibrjr lK*l »J««p, O Rlmmmt, rrtm, 
WH«i ft hfMn !h«m t'l u« ttt itix, 
Aifua WTfh ^ou to rik« ' 
Of do ihcT in Tnuf t^uKkmin^ Krrith 

A»^ M« u« with your CTC» ' 



EARTH'S TRIBUTE. 

FIRST the grain, and then the bl.ide- 
The one destroyed, the other madej 
Then stalk and blossom, and again 
The gold of newly minted grain. 

So Life, by Death the reaper cast 
To earth, again shall rise at lastj 
For 't is the ser\'ice of the sod 
To render God the things of God. 



86 



Mr RBCOMPENSK. 
<^HK bfmk«liMbo^tilddldMlMM«M 

V I '•*> '\ waAwn hmm iW 

'<i bain of pffsilcaikl tovr 
And, lo» M if b fvcoaipcttM of h' 

Ht htmk» MM tW Mkd MpaldM, 
Aad Mi iW tmcy «kk n««t Md 



RABBONI! 

" T BRING Thcc balm, and, lo, Thou art not herel 
A Twice have I poured mine ointment on Thy 
brow. 
And washed Thy feet with fears. Disdain' st Thou 
now 
The spikenard and the myrrh ? 

Has Death, alas, betrayed Thee with a kiss 
That seals Thee from the memory of mine ?'* 
*< Mary ! " It is the self-same Voice Divine. 

•* Rabboni ! " — only this. 



TO THE CMRUT 

I^MOU ImH am muth • Ttnuty, — 
IhfMlf, my fvllow m*a, (k»d m»% 
W1m« ocm «mb bim, iH«« ao« «mh TiMti 



THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTIOM 

A DEW-DROP of the darkness bora, 
Wherein no shadow lies; 
The blossom of a barren thorn, 

Whereof no petal dies; 
A rainbow beauty passion-free, 
Wherewith was veiled Divinity. 



90 



THr AVSTNCIATION 

•• T ^' ' - The A*min|f wvtni 



Vumwi tiM 4oom ht 
0(Dmkm4Hi^ 

MFhn**— Aflolaiii 

A •4atd,« 

WOm to Um biftli md 



THE INCARNATION. 

SAVE through the flesh Thou wouldst not come 
to me — 
The flesh, wherein Thy strength my weakness found 
A weight to bow Thy Godhead to the ground. 
And lift to Heaven a lost humanity. 



THE AUUMFTION 
OR lnliltiuM mot 
Apart imm %iuy'% rwtt% 

Nor Im>*«« Imlf • Imm for 
Wm»o( Hk 



N 



MAGDALEN, (after swinburne.) 
<«OHE hath done what she could." 
vJIt was thus that He spake of her, 
Trembling and pale as the penitent stood. 
** And this she hath done shall be told for the sake 

of her, 
Told as embalmed in the gift that I take of her, 
Take, as an earnest of all that she would 
Who hath done what she could. 

** She hath done what she could: 
Lo, the flame that hath driven her 

Downward, is quenched! and her grief like a flood 
In the strength of a rain-swollen torrent hath shriven 

her: 
Much hath she loved and much is forgiven hcrj 

Love in the longing fulfils what it would -» 

She hatli done what she could." 



ABSOLVr.D 

Her pOMMMUJ i«»r» 

fli LOMIf Mt MM POf|pwM^^ 

ifoa • ■' ■ ■■ ki 



THE PRECURSOR. 

«< A S John of old before His face did go 
,/\.To make the rough ways smooth, that all might 
know 
The level road that leads to Bethlehem, lo, 
I come," proclaims the snow. 



'•N* or MARY 
t r mathrt »»» of One 

« bcT S««*o\ir an<i K«f Sol 



CHRIST TO THE VICTIM -TREE. 

SOON, but not alone to die, 
Kinsman Tree, 
Limbed and leafless must thou lie, 

Doomed, alas, for Me; 
Yea, tor Me, as I for all, 
Must thou tirst a victim fall 

Thou for mc the bitter fruit 

Loth to bear. 
Must of Death's accursed root 

Shame reluctant share. 
Thus the Father's will divine 
Seals thy fate to compass Mine. 



ANGRU or PAIN. 
^ N* hmbM iIm^ cot 

, WlMACt bv oitf f t MfVM m9 4>««« %kam uCicrtv. 
W9f9 k ibr tlMir m ii tm wd rfw%%o u 
How mam iWir viiicalwM Mv faffoi. 



A LENTEN THOUGHT. 

ALONE with Thee, who canst not be alone, 
At midnight, in Thine everlasting dayj 
Lo, less than naught, of nothingness undone, 
I, prayerless, pray! 

Behold — and with Thy bitterness make sweet. 

What sweetest is in bitterness to hide — 
Like NLigdalen, I grovel at Thy feet. 
In lowly pride. 

oil) It r, till my wounds beneath Thy scourging cease; 

Soothe, till my heart in agony hath bled; 
Nor rest my soul with enmity at peace. 
Till Death be dead. 



..Is Tiiv SUIVANT A DOOr* 

FW»««rr mc«i. 



HOLY GROUND. 

PAUSE wliere apart the fallen sparrow lies. 
And lightly treadj 
For there the pity of a Father's eyes 
Enshrines the dead. 



101 



w 



-^y | ii | i H i,Uyl 

WK-. hf n^'j wrfli Imh kM u«««T, Pffacv, to May 
I low iWai bollii bvi Im 

U MMil lO MM." 

AmI fHMVt cliy vktfwmm mom, 

(immmafwahtthfimf 

•• AlMf 4flw jojr, iW aMrrim, b 

H< < t K>,r ««d 



••J 



TO THE BABE NIVA. 

NIVA, Child of Innocence, 
Dust to dust ocv go: 
Thou^ when Winter wooed thee hence, 
Wentest snow to snow. 



li 



r.KAPH 



i'f» ^-^irvS 



•H 



A CRADLE-SONG 

SING it, Mother! sing it low: 
Deem it not an idle lay. 
In the heart 't will ebb and flow 
All the life-long way. 

Sing It, Mother! softly sing, 

While he slumbers on thy kncej 

All that after-years may bring 
Shall flow back to thee. 

Sing it, Mother, Love is strong! 

When the tears of manhood fall, 
Echoes of thy cradle-song 

Shall its peace recall. 

Sing it, Mother! when his ear 
Catcheth first the Voice Divine, 

Dying, he may smile to hear 
What he deemclh thine. 



106 



covnnrn 



:m^ O UmA c{ God. 



- • si(lM did f«ll 
1 IHc*. 



•n 



THE TAX-GATHERER. 
'♦AND pray, who are you ?' 

iVSaid the violet blue 
To the Bee, with surprise 
At his wonderful size, 
In her eye-glass of dew. 

•* I, madam," quoth he, 

•* Am a publican Bee, 

Collecting the tax 

On honey and wax. 

Have you nothing for me ? *' 



io8 



II All V 

HA H V imhrr ^mhtt mk?k^ 



BABY'S DIMPLES. 

LOVE goes playing hide-and-seek 
Mid the roses on her cheek, 
With a little imp of Laughter, 
Who, the while he follows after. 
Leaves the footprints that we trace 
All about the Kissing-placc. 



A HI 



THE NEW-YEAR BABE. 

TWO together, Babe and Year. 
At the midnight chime, 
Through the darkness drifted here 
To the coast of Time. 

Two together, Babe and Year, 

Over night and day 
Crossed the desert Winter drear 

To the land of May. 

On together, Babe and Year, 

Swift to Summer passed; 
«« Rest a moment. Brother dear," 

Said the Babe at last. 

*« Nay, but onward;" answered Year, 

" We must farther go: 
Through the Vale of Autumn sere 

To the Mount of Snow." 

Toiling upward, Babe and Year 
Climbed the frozen height. 

<* We may rest together here, 
Brother Babe — Good-night f" 

Then together Babe and Year 

Slept: but ere the dawn. 
Vanishing, I know not where, 

Brother Year was^owr/ 

112 



MILTON. 

SO hit thy vWm iKm iH« n^ 

A 



Ml 



TO SHELLEY. 

AT Shelley's birth. 
The Lark, dawn-spirit, with an anthem loud 
Rose from the dusky earth 
To tell it to the Cloud, 
That, like a flower night -folded in the gloom. 
Burst into morning bloom. 

At Shelley's death. 
The Sea, that deemed him an immortal, saw 

A god's extinguished breath, 

And landward, as in awe. 
Upbore him to the altar whence he came. 

And the rekindling flame. 



114 



•AffHO 

^ s «dh>dLfc »>i,fa, 



•^« wMcmi 

ipliitic dtiay lutiBwii 
A iwiiwlii| inli I bttm of wM^r^ 

TWa iiiMn, Mid « »iUMf«c l>AiMl( of pdA. 
W« «ik, abit fai tadioM v%ik loH. 

TW ■Minr giMw iImi c oiu l l Mt ■g^l 
0«r t7«i art Wavy, tad our vi«g« whii 

0«r bTMtll — a plMMOM of Um 



TBI, «Ui o«r tcwt Md 



•M 



TO SIDNEY LANIER. 

THE dewdrop holds the heaven above, 
Wherein a lark, unseen, 
Outpours a rhapsody of love 
That fills the space between. 

My heart a dewdrop is, and thou. 

Dawn-spirit, far away, 
Fillest the void between us now 

With an immortal lay. 



Ii6 



Qy r..» v-'^o ^ifCOMrNO VOLUME OK 
KS POKMS^ 

yv . _ ^^^ 



ODo ti 



r 

A ai U IIm MflllilMtt fO» 



••? 



FATHER DAMIEN. 

OGOD, the cleanest offering 
Of tainted earth below, 
Unblushing to thy feet we bring- 
' ' A leper ivhite as snoiv ! ' * 



flE ttlOWDROP. 

A fciowii>u|i « iIm i^af^ca Hood 



H^ tittm Hommm tWffv w%m moii 

NepMuwoT 
OricMMi^nyi 



U W«i«r'« «cf» 4(^r, d«ct&r« 
A jilhr f««^ 



So 4i4tf IImv, I>*mira. wvam tnc glow 

Ofkkk md ho^ wmmmm^ km. 
for «wli bcwtemd dm iW mow, 
AAdl«dtW«ay. 



QUATRAIM& 



••FOR THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY 

DAV. • 
tQf^LZl^'' ^^"^^ ^"^ <^ 1*^ ^^ ^ 



••I 



THE MAST. 

THE winds that once my playmates were 
No more my voice responsive hear, 
Nor know me, naked now and dumb, 
When o'er my wandering way they come. 



««4 



A rrowrs throw. 

LO. DmiIi BMlMf p«bbl« far 6mk 

To lo«« oiUhm 
Vfom tunkf. 



LOVE'S AUTOGRAPH. 

ONCE only did he pass my way. 
** When wilt thou come again ? 
Ah, leave some token of thy stay!'* 
He wrote (and vanished) " Pain." 



126 



tafW «loMllb«l»oldtlMf 
from AiHiai mmo UgliL 



1 



I 



PREJUDICE. 

A LEAF may hide the largest sUr 
From Love's uplifted eyej 
A mote of prejudice out-bar 
A world of Charity. 



a8 



I H) K 

A • • 



O'ERSPENT. 

MY soul is as a fainting noonday star, 
And thou, the absent night j 
Haste, that thy healing shadow from afar 
May touch me into light. 



UO 



IN' 

11 






MItiM 



•!• 



RUIN. 

A POWER beyond Perfection's dream i& thine, 
A shadow tlint the dwindling shape outgrows 
Of substance, like a \'ast horizon-line 
Receding as the Fancy onward goes. 



'3a 



iECALMri) 

M fctJMW law «aQ JMIIlMlig tfl U* kM4s 






•XJ 



TO THE SPHINX. 

AH, not alone in Egypt's desert land 
Thy civvclling-placc apart '. 
But whercsoe'cr the scorching passion-sand 
Hath seared die human heart. 



IJ4 



DttCRrPANtY 

.NE drauB tW bini 

W Lo««, llM wiMit dglM loHl 
V«t iwsia 'm» u i iiwi iii 
la frigfUKv aa^ te 



Ol 



POETRY. 

A GLEAM of heaven; the passion of a Star 
Held captive in the clasp of harmony: 
A silence, shell-like breathing from afar 
The rapture of the deep, — eternity. 



,36 



STROSO M iIm tM. Mia mUm m ilit grm, 
Willi mim oT 




SLEEP. 

WHAT art thou, balmy sleep? 
** Foam from the fragrant deep 
Of silence, hither blown 
From the hushed waves of tone.*' 



isS 



: MK PYRAMIDS. 

AMID tK« ilr««rt «/ • my*t^ Umf, 
Like S«KtU «r»HiA|[ f>tt h ti'^tn ftf 



AMfl Ml ■wfiM aoteiidt ilMy 



b«fi 



•l» 



FORMATION. 

WHATEVER we love becomes of us a partj 
The centre of all trlbutarj' powers — 
Our life is fed from Nature's throbbing heart, 
And of her best the fibred growth is ours. 



140 



IHF PROMONTORY 

1.1 iW rM|c* of tcaboni libcft] 

rrtf lor ocM rr«claM W li 

nua» Um hmn, — <>i »11 caaifMkMi Itw, • 
Jdr Aii M i to iIm Roc4« ito kMiitf, Otfi*. 



N 



STARS. 

BEHOLD, upon the field of Night, 
Far-scattered seeds of golden light; 
Nor one to wither, hut anon 
To bear the heaven-full harvest, Dawa 



M* 



NVHISPKR 

L««l »viiUcni^ »it« >•<«< ftcf tirf<f 



.1 






U| 



THE SUN. 

HK prisons many a life indeed 
Within the narrow cells of seed, 
But cannot call them forth again 
Without thf ^.'vmiL- of rain. 



THE SUNBEAM 

ALADDKJl tMm iW Uiid of UgH 
Itw^ •miUmkmL 



t3, 



• orcHtMgte 

loOoa. 



Ml 



ALTER EGO. 

''pHOU art to me as is the sea 

1 Unto the shell} 
A life whereof I breathe, a kmj 
Wherein I dwell 



146 



L* in iW wnwf btlow 
»* ttrj bra VTA • 

TW ioims fai dl iWirflofy'bf%K 



c 



H9 



ESTRANGEMENT. 

WHAT kindly Absence hid, forsooth, 
Thy Presence late hath shown j 
That, like a garment worn in youth, 
I am, alas, outgrown! 



148 



BtrrHOVKN AND ANOBLO. 

ONE SMat llM WgiM M Ol lOM 
MMmM le U* roll 
Om« hvm Um «MHk woi b of a/>cv«. 



THE SHADOW. 

O SHADOW, in thy fleeting form I sec 
The friend of fortune that once clung to mc. 
In flattering light, thy constancy is shownj 
In darkness, thou wilt leave mc all alone. 



ISO 



•ONNm. 



THK INDIAN Of tAN iALVADOlL 

MAT f«M tW awNlM unm 



w 



«*»«• iW nia it goM, 



KEATS. 

UPON thy tomb 't is graven, ** Here lies one 
Whose name is writ in water." Could there be 
A flight of Fancy fitlicr feigned for thee, 
A fairer motto for her favorite son f 
For, as the wave, thy varying numbers run — 
Now crested proud in tidal majesty, 
Now tranquil as the twilight reverie 
Of some dim lake the white moon looks upon 

While teems the world with silence. Even there, 
In each Protean rainbow-tint that stains 

The breathing canvas of the atmosphere, 
We read an exhalation of thy strains. 

Thus, on the scroll of Nature, everywhere. 
Thy name, a deathless syllable, remains. 



«M 



ttLCNCr 

in 



rfMVir >4 O0A, ftom %n fffrsky 




or 

Vti b Uipdr oT all tiiwwiiiin ftw. 
Is tlMtt, iW MM^ iMfiw llM Ht 

I MM uwdii iMfVMI r MwC fWtfMKV MffO 

Wiik Umcn iW pofttl, kac • lowid 

\V1m wfts alMilc*! «Hmi is kaili tvtr b«ai 
The l^Ucrt Um lolbm wiMiiai 



bar, aUdit « c 



Ckar, aMM « cIcHid of All>fcnr»<ltfif ms, 
Um voict of Lof«*t — wtwhli wotL 



Ml 



UNUTTERED. 

WAITING for words — as on the broad expanse 
Of heaven the formless vapors of the night, 
Expectant, wait the oracle of light 
Interpreting their dumb significance; 
Or like a star that in the morning glance 

Shrinks, as a folding blossom, from the sight. 
Nor wakens till upon the western height 
The shadows to their evening towers advance^ 

So, in my soul, a dream ineffable, 

Expectant of the sunshine or the shade, 

Hath oft, upon the brink of twilight chill, 

Or at the dawn's pale glimmering portal stayed 

In tears, that all the quivering eyelids fill. 
In smiles, that on the lip of silence fade. 



156 



v^ 



' I «MI lo M« m^ to 

1 Its Mnom Mt« «. « )o)r IbfVTvr arwi 

WiMt to tW Mf In MS Attn, It* liaiwily 4«w, 
h» iflTtt «Hm lo 4a»« ila kfk-«aof ckoTi 
To Mo«, hi liflM — «• i«ckk» atM^lMfi^ 

Wlww ociMi — d tW iimtiwiliBft Mt, 

A« oat is Lovt*» dfcwnlmscr lypotf. 

O t riwwJM liMW, wiUii^w far onmact 
Afiko of |o)r Md tomntl fill iMm «7«i 

Aad mk t tn tW d j wh t i r i. Lov« k ioimi 
Am im iW doMft't wid 

OriM fikaco, fik* a wpoktoi of 
AMsTt ' 



•fy 



LOVE'S RETROSPECT. 

I KNEW that he was dying; for the leaves 
Late-fallen, shivered on the frosty ground, 
Disconsolate, with the foreboding sound 
That Autumn whispers to the heart that grieves. 
The sunshine, slanting upward, smote the sheaves 
O'ershadowing the hill-tops ranged around, 
And wliere the swallow's empty nest was found. 
Spattered, as if with blood, the sheltering eaves. 

Twin fires together faded: and but one 
Rewakened o'er a world henceforth to me 
In everlasting twilight. To the Past 

The Present pays its tribute, whereupon 
Each moment coins the selfsame effigy, — 
The more than all by wealth un widowed cast 



158 



A ^' 
1 ^ .- oTn • w fl d tm — cf AMI 



A» 

la «vtry ifciHUag iJMi ln w Faacy «m« 

A 



Nor Dajr aor HMh« hi Time'* cttnul trmmd 
WWtwl ikt £ki M« i«UdH(. ffc iM>i» PMI 

TIlM l<lliw llBO — llMt dim, mpUfioiM 
TWi Mta dMir liwi MMMkr — wiMfv 

TiMir mtlim tmd iMr Im«i »>vi 
Am «dL aIwwml mu» or l«v« Um 



»•• 



GLIMPSES. 

AS one who in the hush of twilight hears 
The pausing pulse of Nature, when the Light 
Commingles in the dim mysterious rite 
Of Darkness with the mutual pledge of tears. 
Till soft, anon, one timorous star appears, 
Pale-budding as the earliest blossom white 
That comes in Winter's livery bedight, 
To hide the gifts of genial Spring she bears, — 

So, unto me — what time the mysteries 

Of consciousness and slumber weave a dream 
And pause above it with abated breath, 
Like intervals in music — lights arise. 

Beyond prophetic Nature's farthest gleam, 
That teach mc half the mystery of Death. 



160 



: MR AOONV 

IwRrsri IP. 1. ' ' Tj \ • ' < ii-n. 

I IM Ami! ilMiiii •• U» ilM mmkm lifkll 
Obrtrf, 



TIMS M«l : > Cifltfv 10 IM «ai 

I ItaU IK (4>mIm iImw iam lUvf 



I 

Aad, n iW a*« •!»• iW tmSi^ hSK 
So o« my •ptril, ov«r-«mncii wmv* 
Cube imSctiy ikc brac«lu:iMja, SIm^ 



THE DEAD TREE. 

ERECT in death thou standest gaunt and bare, 
Tliy limbs uplifted to the wintry sky, 
To supplicate its pity, or defy 
The threat of wrath with towering despair. 
Around thee, like a wizard's widening snare, 
Lithe shadows in a web fantastic lie, 
Spun of the moon, in midnight sorcery, 
Down gazing with a madman's vacant stare. 

What reads she in thy ruin ? Lives the jxist 
Recorded in the present ? Lingers here 

The legend of a glory overcast. 

The song of birds long silent, and the stir 

Of leaves forever scattered to the blast. 
Vet echoed in eternal dreams to her ? 



i6« 



I 



M 



I iHi M « 14b Ike 4nam of paMioa told. 

How ralfli ik« (JiMoMoot Ca«l4 tW «f«m 

H«r tpou**. «o bio, m4 W<s(Wf ^ CooU rfi« ti»(« 

TW 4oo« oTHff ow* mii«|t i« iW IhM^ 
To M. skftl oo OMfv tW vital iprk, 

Mc iigli o^ pit/ •• iMamf 



THE PETREL. 

A WANDERER o'er the sea-graves ever green, 
Whereon the foam-flowers blossom day by day, 
Thou flittest as a doomful shadow gray 
That from the wave no sundering light can wean. 
What wouldst thou from tiu* deep unfathomed glean, 
Frail voyager.^ and whither leads thy way? 
Or art thou, as the sailor legends say. 
An exile from the spirit-world unseen ? 

Lo! desolate, above a colder tide, 

Pale Memory, a sea-bird like to thee. 

Flits outward where the whitening billows hide 
What seemed of Life the one reality, — 

A mist whereon the morning bloom hath died, 
Returning, ghost-like, to the restless sea. 



164 



H 



AT ANCHOR. 

€>W cftlM mfom iW iwiBglH wmttt «t««ps 
W«k fc M i d wiaip, jrtMi aoliunr «Ail, 
fcJiNla i bo n d, Ittply ammii^ o# tW gate 

TWi ««tf4ik« o'tf iIm «rMM liwwma latpti 

W»icii4 •»!• bdMOd, itt »icM4 iaM pit 
WlM*t oa«M4 tffll iW 



tur of My lifc* p«W pUM« 
Oil, b« llMm. wlMft iW I 

tmk^my cod cliiM MUft 
B7 4«ili uid autaMs tiU iW 

BnwM MM HI UM MVHACV I 

Mf bMCoa Imt*^ aij 



SHADOWS. 

T/E shrink not wholly from us when the mom 
± Arises red with slaughter, and the slain 
Sweet visages of tender dreams remain 

To haunt us through tiie wakened hours forlorn. 

Nor when the noontide cometh, and the thorn 
Of light is centred in the quivering brain, 
And Memory her pilgrimage of pain 

Renews, with fainting footsteps, overworn. 

Nay, then, what time the satellite of day 
Pursues his path victorious, and the West, 

Her clouds beleaguered vanishing away, 
A desert seems of solitude oppressed, 

Arovmd us still your hovering pinions stay. 
The pledges of returning night and rest. 



166 



THE MOl^VTAIM 

ALTAR fHMffiai iW ImSy MCttfn 
<>f ■Bill fr—i iW fvvvmH v»kiM*v 
b otfrfvd m •^ «*-">'% int kiiilii^ glow 
A«4 wlM Ik. 



u- 



Or li#t — AMiravmr — brvMlMMiaiow, 
Aad f«tm twyoad iky |wirU aC «•«« 



TW illiJ n w bfoediabow mc, mm! mm o«m 
6mm m • dyU bcMMk k. Oct mj ^nm 

IVr tfim is Um omIhh ' 
Of ca««ni f»MidiMi4 



UNMOORED. 

TO die in sleep — to drift from dream to dream 
Along the banks of slumber, beckoned on 
Perchance by forms familiar, till anon, 
Unconsciously, tlie ever-widening stream 
Beyond the breakers bore thee, and the beam 
Of everlasting morning woke upon 
Thy dazzled gaze, revealing one by one 
Thy visions grown immortal in its gleam. 

O blessed consummation! thus to feel 
In Death no touch of terror. Tenderly 

As shadows to the evening hills, he came 
In garb of God's dear messenger to thee, 

Nor on thy weary eyelids broke the seal, 
In reverence for a brother's holier name. 



168 



KUGENir. 

IN 9»»U, •vJct«*U, fKiliiU^, <ir«*w&lr, 
TWw Mitrti la tK« m«/(tfT '4 «•< « 
Aad muto*! ir»«c. With «.Sv» 14«r;n|; munaun 

Upas iIm dttxiui tti^'fiy U \ Ut 

of Sorrow. F««<i t'>«v£o 
TWk 
A«l 




lom «niJi 



AJI 
All 

An 

M«clc 
Aa4 y«t, lo tiMo iW iml lot k Uid — 



•jrmniliX to ilM«| 
dJaiMonat, 



THE PASCHAL MOON. 

THV face is whitened with remembered woej 
For thou alone, pale satellite, didst sec, 
Amid the shadows of Gcthsemane, 
The mingled cup of sacrifice o'crflow; 
Nor hadst the power of utterance to show 
The wasting wound of silent sympathy. 
Till sudden tides, obedient to thee, 
Sobbed, desolate in weltering anguish, low. 

The holy night retumeth year by year; 

And, while the mystic vapors from thy rim 
Distil the dews, as from the Victim there 

The red drops trickled in the twilight dim, 
The ocean's changeless threnody we hear, 

And gaze upon thee as thou didst on Him. 



170 



OOLOOTHA. 






T« braUl MO^W^fW OHMdOM IglM 
OC OMfty Mlg« IkMI WI l Kl J l I wM ial 

TW «Mtk Uf g«M wMlclMml opn wmi _ 

IMMMMM PBf llM tOdTt OMCWMMlf B^fM 

T» Imt OMCtui dMdck OOUvwyf 

A^HB oM 4npyMlf vHcMn Cfowi iky bfow, 
A«4 I (M iWa. Id Hb •U-HM^ mild) 
Weep 'mimI iH« fv»«r»l gioom. Olll Iff «• Im^ 
A* Ml %kam hamn ci Mgvnli, kfaMn mam 
la rfMi« oT 4«ilL dM MM «r Hfc 10 iii4. 



tr« 



THE PORTRAIT. 

EACH has his Angel-Guardian. Mine, I know, 
Looks on me from that pictured face. Behold, 
How clear, between those rifted clouds of gold, 
The radiant brow! It is the morning glow 
Of Innocence, ere yet the heart let go 

The leading-strings of Heaven. Upon the eyes 
No shadow: like the restful noonday skies 
They sanctify the teeming world below. 

Why bows my soul before it ? None but thou, 
O tender child, has known the life estranged 

From thee and all that made thy days of joy 
The measure of my own. Behold me now — 

The man that begs a blessing of the boy — 
His very ulfj but from himself how changedl 



«7» 



TrMtnwm Dm Oct 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

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